


The Broken Savior

by justlookingforgoodfics



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Child Abuse, Depression, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Good Severus Snape, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Self-Harm, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:35:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlookingforgoodfics/pseuds/justlookingforgoodfics
Summary: Harry is in his sixth year at Hogwarts and is severely struggling. Will someone be able to help him?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 17
Kudos: 133





	1. the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't repost or translate without permission! Also beware, this fic starts out pretty dark, butttt it gets better. If you are sensitive to abuse or self harm then this fic definitely isn't for you. Stay safe! If there are any typos or inaccuracies please let me know! thanks for reading!

Harry Potter sat in the first defense against the dark arts class staring blankly at the wall in front of him. His head was like a swirling sea, so many colors and ideas flooding and flushing out. He wasn’t paying attention to the lesson, even though he knew he should. What’s the point? He thought. He is just the martyr for the wizarding war, listening to Professor Snape wasn’t exactly at the top of his priorities.  
Instead, he thought of Cedric’s haunting face, Sirius’ last smirk, and flashes of arvada green. The hole in his chest widened, making his breathing difficult. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the whirlwind of destructive thoughts. ‘My fault, it’s all my fault!’ He thought, growing more panicked.  
“Mr. Potter,” Harry’s teary eyes looked up into the smirking face of his professor, ”just because you are the savior does not mean you are exempt from taking notes in this class. Detention tonight at 8.”  
Harry snapped his head away from the professor, and meekly said, “okay…”  
With Harry’s face turned he missed his professor’s slight frown at his dismissal. The professor was simply astonished. No quick witted remark? And had Potter been crying? He must be imagining things now. He quickly turned around, not quite sure what to do with the disturbed boy, and resumed his lesson on defensive spells.  
At the end of class, Harry quickly exited the classroom, wanting to get as far away as possible. He heard Ron call out his name after him, but Harry just picked up the pace. He wasn’t exactly sure where he was going, but he just needed to be alone. Alone to sit and cry, process, and let the guilt rip his internals apart.  
He found himself at the Astronomy tower, abandoned in the daytime. He curled up against a parapet and let himself slump over. He laid on his side and just silently wept, weeping for everyone lost so far in the war. He let his emotions that he had held back for so long, finally bubble and burst to the surface. They swept over and he let out his sudden anger and grief by repeatedly punching the floor next to him. He didn’t stop until his knuckles were bruised and bloody. The twinges of pain didn’t even register, clouded by his high pain tolerance and anguish.  
He let everything come up; the abuse he faced from the Dursleys after they found out Sirius was dead, the guilt for Sirius’ death he never got to process, and his anger of how fucking unfair everything was. Why, why was it always him. Everything in his goddamn life was just a big fuck you to Harry fucking Potter, the fucking savior of the goddamned wizarding world. It didn’t even fucking matter anymore. He just didn’t care-no couldn’t. If he did it would tear him apart.  
As Harry cried himself out, he slowly stopped punching the floor, letting out the last few bursts of energy he had and finally falling into disturbed sleep.


	2. The dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a nightmare.

Flashes of light surrounded him, brilliant greys and silver, memories flashing past him. He saw the flash of green light, Voldemort laughing, his uncle standing over him with the belt, his aunt hitting him over the head with a frying pan, Hagrid telling him he’s a wizard, his uncle’s roaring voice that haunts him, Dudley’s Harry hunting, Ron turning away from him, Voldemort rising from the bubbling cauldron, Snape breaking into his thoughts over and over, agonizing pain, Sirius’ laugh as he fell into the veil, Lupin holding him back as he screamed. And finally...sitting in his bedroom as his uncle burst into the room, roaring about something Harry did. “YOU’RE GOING TO PAY BOY.”

Harry woke very suddenly, sitting up suddenly and breathing heavy at the nightmare. He clutched to the floor as he leaned forward and promptly threw up the meager meal he’d had that morning. His head was pounding, and well as his bloody knuckles.

He sat there for a moment, before finally having enough energy to clumsily pick himself up off the floor. He cast a tempus and realized it was time for dinner. He hastily made his way down to the Great Hall, pulling his sleeve over his hand. He slid into a seat next to Ron and Hermione, greatly exhausted.

“He mate, where were you? I tried calling after you but you were already gone after defense,” Ron asked, chewing on a chicken thigh.

“Huh? Oh-um- I went to the dorm to take a nap, I didn’t sleep well last night,” Harry appeased.

“Harry, you should really go see Madame Pomfrey for your insomnia, it’s not good for you,” Hermione said, concerned. 

“I don’t need to go to Pomfrey!” Harry snapped, getting up suddenly and simply walking from the table without eating, feeling too nauseous from earlier to attempt a meal. 

“Harry! Don’t go!” Hermione exclaimed, rising from her seat in pursuit of the boy who lived.

But Ron pulled her down and said, “Look Mione, he’s fine, you know how he gets tetchy after naps, just leave him be for a bit! Stop nagging.”

“But Ron! I’m worried about him, he looks like he hasn’t slept in years, with those eye bags. Did you see his hand? It was all bloody!” Hermione screeched, worried.   
“No I didn’t see it, it was probably just a trick of the light! And Harry’s sleeping schedule is his own business!” Ron said sheepishly. 

“Whatever Ronald, something’s up with him, and I’m worried.” Hermione stated as she went back to her meal. 

Snape’s POV  
What Harry didn’t realize was the dark eyes of one Severus Snape’s watching as he entered the Great Hall. Severus saw the boy sit down, briefly converse with the other two Gryffindors, and stalk away angrily. 

‘Something is wrong with the boy. He seems more closed off, less open booked with his friends. I will figure this out… for Lily.


	3. Detention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes to detention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mild self harm

Harry stormed out from the Great hall. He didn’t need Hermione nagging about sleeping. He knew that he wasn’t doing well, but he didn’t need her to tell him that! It was just frustrating, he just wanted someone to listen to him and not judge. He didn’t need solutions, he just wanted to let go and be able to breathe again. But it didn’t seem like that would be happening any time soon. 

Without realizing it, he had reached the dorms. He flipped down onto his bed, breathing out the exhaustion that seemed to leech on his very bones. He remembered that he had detention with Snape at 8 and cursed. He didn’t want to go. He was so tired of the man endlessly ridiculing him and harping on his behavior. He just wanted everyone to leave him alone in his misery. Harry knew how much of a disappointment he was, didn’t need Snape to tell him that. 

Harry rolled over in bed, glancing at his watch. 7:27. He had about 20 minutes before he had to make his way down to the dungeons. 

He looked down at his throbbing hand. Luckily, it didn’t seem broken or bleeding too badly. It was now scabbed over, and an ugly purple. That pain was a distant thought, thought it attracted him. It was so nice to feel like something was in his control. He caused this pain, not his awful uncle. 

He pressed down on the bruises and gasped as a flare of pain ricocheted through his wrist. He kept doing it, seemingly enchanted by the painful pull. After a few minutes of pressing down hard on the bruises and cuts, he glanced at his watch. 7:46. Shite, he had to go. 

He slowly stood, grabbed his bag, and made his way to the dungeons. 

When he finally reached the black dungeon door it was 7:58. He knocked gently with his bruised hand just to feel the sting. It swung open and revealed the potions master. 

“Potter. Come in,” Snape said in his usual condescending voice. 

Harry walked in quickly, waiting for the professor to tell him what terrible task he had to complete today. “Tonight you will be writing an essay about the notes we took in class today. Pages 147 through 168. The uses of defensive spells.” Snape commented, gesturing to a desk in the middle of the room. 

Harry sat, and grabbed his things, the book, quill, and parchment. He began to read, keeping his head down as Snape stared down at him from his desk at the front of the room. 

He gripped the quill with his damaged hand, wincing at the pain of curling the bruised hand. But he made onwards, using the pain to focus on the reading, ignoring the chill of the dungeons and his teachers stare. 

By the time he had finished it was nearing 9:30. He put down his quill, his hand even a worse color and puffy. “Mm, professor? I’m finished,” Harry said quietly. 

Snape stood and walked to Harry’s desk, looking over his shoulder at the parchment. He scanned the parchment and noticed Harry’s bruised hand still placed on the desk. 

“Been fighting Potter? Maybe I should give you another detention Tomorrow at 8 pm should do,” Snape snidely remarked. 

“Yes sir;” Harry grit through his teeth, really just wanting to sink into his four Peter bed and get some sleep. 

Harry turned and walked away but halfway out the door Snape said,”And Potter. Get that hand checked out by Madame pomfrey tomorrow.”

Harry nodded slightly without looking up, and slipped through the door into the corridor.


	4. Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a later update! I know these chapters are short, but I find it’s a lot more motivating to do more updates with shorter chapters. I’m going to try to post at least twice a week regularly. So the fix will have quite a few chapters but not as many words. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Harry has zero intention of going to see Madame Pomfrey. To be honest, he was surprised that Snape even cared. What was the point? All she would do is scold and mother him. His mother is dead. He didn’t need another. 

So instead, Harry dragged his tired body to the dorm and fell exhausted onto the red comforter. 

The next morning Harry’s hand was truly swollen. It was purple, puffy, and tender to the touch. But he forged on, getting ready to face the day of pointless classes. To him, he was just the martyr. He didn’t need to know how to transfigure a needle into a match. He needed to be able to defeat Voldemort. 

But instead, he walked down to the Great Hall, stomach growling. He sat next to Hermione who like usual, was there early reading a book. He nodded to her and said a simple good morning and began to put things on his plate. 

Harry has never been able to eat as much as he wanted. After 16 years of starving at the Dursley’s it was as if his stomach had shrunk permanently. So instead, got some bland oatmeal, fruit, and pumpkin juice to fuel his morning. He ate in silence not wanting to talk to Hermione and have her state the obvious a-fucking-gain. 

His mind spun as he ate, just thinking over everything that had happened recently. The pain in his hand was almost welcomed. It seemed to anchor him to reality and assure him he was still real. 

He dreaded going to another detention tonight. Especially for something he hadn’t even done. Snape was just so blind. They all were really. Harry came to school every year starved and bruised. But, it seemed no one ever noticed… or cared really. Getting detention because he had had a mental breakdown and punched the floor was truly the cherry on top of a terrible sundae. 

But he wasn’t going to argue with the professor. He knew arguing with that man was like arguing with a pickled frog; utterly pointless. Anyways, he didn’t want the professor to know the real reason, didn’t want anyone to actually. 

He realized that he had wasted his breakfast time staring into space thinking about Snape of all things. Bloody hell, fuck, he had to go to class. So he grabbed his things, leaving the barely eaten breakfast behind.


	5. Flying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! Figured I should get some happiness into there before I basically destroy Harry with angst lol

Classes sped by, Harry just not able to latch onto a single thing any of his teachers said. He just didn’t have the motivation at all. And on top of it he was dreading the stupid detention he had with Snape later that evening. 

He just did not feel enough motivation to do anything. He had loads of homework but what was the point? He’s just gonna die anyways, so feck Potions homework. He just needed some release, some quiet from the inner of his mind. 

So, he decided to go flying. He changed into a warm Weasley sweater and grabbed his Firebolt. He made his way through the quiet castle, grateful he had an off period at the end of the day. 

Finally, he burst through the great hall doors to the outside. The warmth of the fall air brushed and coddled his face. The leaves of many trees just now starting to fall. Autumn was almost there, his favorite season. He basked in the warmth for a minutes, letting the heat of the sun hit his face and erase some of his inner turmoil. It’s hard to be depressed on such a nice day. 

So he hopped along to the Quidditch pitch, excited to be able to take his first ride of the season. He donned his gloves and mounted the glistening Firebolt. The broom brought back so many memories. Sirius’ face as he smiled at Harry the year before when he had stayed for Christmas, the lights of the tree glistening against his silky hair. He basked in the memory, just enjoying this sense of happiness that was so seldom nowadays. 

He wouldn’t allow himself to think of Sirius in any other way today. He just needed some time to think of all the good, all the positive, before he could continue to grieve. He just needed a break. He is so tired. 

Shaking that thought away, Harry whisked himself into the sky. He did a few warm up laps, before practice some more difficult maneuvers. It was so freeing to be on his broom. It was like nothing from the ground could reach him when he was flying. No uncle screaming and berating and beating existed so far above. 

So Harry allowed himself this moment of happiness. But all good things must come to an end. He slowly touched down, not wanting to abandon the pitch quite yet. But it was getting dark and his hand was numb from the hours of flying. 

And so he began his slow trek back to the castle. He dragged his feet knowing what was coming next immediately dampening his mood; detention with Snape.


	6. A well deserved tantrum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being gone so long everyone! It’s been a tough few weeks, but I’m finally back on track! Here is a long one, please comment what you think! This one is a bit dramatic, but i think Harry’s undeniable sass just makes everything better.

Harry trudged back towards the castle, Firebolt in undamaged hand, thoughts swirling about his upcoming detention. 

He entered the Great Hall, and walked into the dungeons, cold air prickling the back of his neck. He arrived at the snake's classroom door and knocked, waiting to hear the mans baritone voice hiss back. 

“You are late Potter,” came a voice from directly behind him. His spun round and came face to chest with Professor Snape himself. Harry was quite short in stature for his age. Blame it on the malnutrition he thought. So Snape towered above him, he had to crane his neck to look into his face. 

“S-sorry sir… I lost track of time,” Harry sputtered. Harry blushed at the close quarters, Snape had obviously misjudged how close he would be standing. 

“I do not care what the Savior does during his free time. Come, you will be washing all the cauldrons from the first year's first potion tonight.” Snape said, brushing past Harry and unlocking the door. Harry composed himself and followed, his hand already stinging with the thought of using it more that night. 

Harry walked to the corner sink with the cauldrons stacked beside it, dreading scraping the goo from them. But, in reality, he had a lot of experience cleaning very disgusting things from time at his aunts. So, he begrudgingly got started, one cauldron after another. The hot water stung at the cuts on his hand, but he didn’t stop. He just wanted out of here. 

In a little less than an hour, Harry had finished. He stretched his back out in front of the sink and turned to face Snape. Professor Snape was currently sitting at the head desk, marking papers. 

“Um sir I finished…” Harry said meekly to the quiet room.

Snape quill stopped scratching, and without looking up said,”there is no possible way you are done Potter, that was over 30 cauldrons.”

“Umm well if you want to check sir, but they are clean.” Harry said quietly. 

Snape stood dramatically with a flourish of his robes, to come check Harry’s work. He peered over the mass of cauldrons drying in on the desks and said, “I meant without magic Potter.”

“I didn’t use any I swear! I’m just good at cleaning,” Harry said hurriedly not wanting to get stuck there for any longer. He hand felt like it was about to burn off. 

“Good at cleaning?! As if the Savior has ever had to clean anything in his precious, pretentious life,” Snape bit out. 

Harry felt his anger rise, Snape didn’t know fuck all about his life. How dare he assume just like everyone else that he was pampered and cared for? It sent his nerves on fire. “Oh Of course sir! I’ve neverrrr had to clean anything in my perfect little life on Privet Drive. Just don’t talk to the neighbors they might fracture that little fantasy you have of my life going on in your insufferable brain. I’m pretty sure Ms Jenkins saw me get beat half to death by my uncle one day from her window. But she wouldn’t want to put a bad mark on the neighborhood by calling the police now would she. Ya know, I thought you would be the one person smart enough to realize all that is a bunch of shit. But I guess I was wrong about you too!” Harry yelled stepping closer to Snape with every word until he stood face to face on his tiptoes. “You don’t know anything about me,” he harshly bit out into Snape's face. 

Harry whirled around and stormed out of the classroom, snatching his things from the doorway. He stomped all the way to the astronomy tower, tears dripping down his face. But he didn’t care. He just wanted away from all the bullshit he had experienced, everything was just too much. 

He curled up into a corner of the room and cried. He beat the walls and wailed out his internal agony. He hated everything at that moment; his life, Snape, but most importantly himself.


End file.
